First Impressions
by Chyna Rose
Summary: Before it all began, they had to meet. First impressions can last a life time. Can they be over come? Companion peice to Harry Potter and the Shroud of Dead Souls


First Impressions

Canis Lupus Lupus

By Chyna Rose

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is copyrighted by J.K. Rowling. Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi and Viz (only used in concept). This is set in MWPP era, so no real Harry Potter spoilers. But it's still a good idea to have read up through Order of the Phoenix. This is also my own unique blend of Harry Potter and Inuyasha crossover. Feedback's always wanted. Flame if you want, because I frankly don't care if you do.

For more than half his life now, Remus Lupin had been… different. His parents had assured him that it wasn't his fault and that they still loved him, but he was aware of the stress his 'condition' put on them. Very little could be hidden from him after all.

The day his Hogwarts letter arrived, their quiet little home exploded into joyous celebration. It wasn't that anyone doubted his magical ability – by the time he was four he had managed to charm his favorite stuffed animal (a gargoyle doll his grandmother had made for him) to follow him around and carry out basic commands. It's just that they didn't expect the school to want to take the risk of having a werewolf attending. His kind was not welcome in very many places.

Remus made his way through the Hogwarts Express looking for an empty compartment. He was doing his best not to sniff around despite the overwhelming urge to do so. Most of the compartments were full – at least, too full for him. He was still uncomfortable in crowds – especially when he was effectively trapped. The world was not inclined to be kind to those like him.

The compartment should've been perfect for him; only one occupant who was around his age. Yet he hesitated at the doorway. The boy was studiously reading a thick leather bound book. Such apparent inattention should've made him feel at ease, yet there was something about the boy that put him on edge for reasons he couldn't (or wouldn't) explain.

The boy was largely unremarkable. His black hair hung limp and oily down to his shoulders. His nose stood out on his face; long and narrow and sharp. His mouth was thin – not quite a frown, but certainly not a smile. His eyes held a steely focus on the tome before him. His hands were long and thin, the fingers almost spidery. And he had the air of an old family. One from which witches and wizards had been born into since before the time of Merlin. Perhaps it was **that** which caused Remus to pause.

The boy wrinkled his nose in distaste at something Remus couldn't fathom (the book perhaps), and suddenly everything fell into place. **That** was why Remus was uneasy. The boy's scent was… wrong somehow. Remus knew that everybody had their own scent; a unique olfactory fingerprint that distinguished them from the crowd. It could be altered, but never really replaced. It was a culmination of your life; your magic, health, favorite soap, hobby, places, people, foods… Anything and everything that had a scent and influenced your life.

The boy's scent was unlike anything Remus had ever smelled before (in fact, it would take him over twenty years to catch a similar scent. But that's another story altogether). It was an extremely complex scent; books, and ink, and wood smoke, and clean water, and blood, and the wild wooded places, and… feathers?, and power. Dark power. Ancient power. Remus had never scented another werewolf (at least that he could remember), but this was how he always imagined one to smell like – except that didn't explain the feathery scent.

With one mystery solved (and with only a thousand others popping up to take its place), Remus relaxed a bit and entered the compartment. The boy might be strange and potentially dangerous, but now that Remus had figured out (in part) what it was about the boy that bothered him, he didn't feel trapped by being in the boy's company. It was, perhaps the best seating situation he would find. And he would make do with what he was given. There really was nothing else that could be done.


End file.
